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■MOT%s^l-SYNOPSIS.Ths glory onent with a ii'rMm fromDorothy March In the opera box of Mr*Missloner, a wealthy widow It I* oc-casioned when Mm Missloner's necklacebreak*, scattering the diamonds all overthe floor. Ourtls Griswold and BruxtonSands, society men In love with Mrs Mis-•ioner. gather up the gem* (iriawoldatrpa on what I* supposed to be the cele-brated Maharanee and crushes It. A Hin-du.) declares It waa not the genuine. An♦Xpert later pronounces all the stonessubstitutes for the original. DetectivesDonnelly arul <'arson investigate Theydecide that the theft of the original gemswas accomplished by some one in thehouse Miss Kltnor Holcomb, confidentialcompanion of Mrs Miasioner, is bus-pec tod. One of the missing diamonds lafound in her room. Mrs Miasioner pro-tests that Elinor Is Innocent, but she Istaken to prison. Meantime, in an up-town mansion, two Hindoos, who arc InAmerica to recover the Maharanee, dis-cuss the arrest. Detective Blitz takes uptile rase He evidently bellgvcs Kiino- In-nocent and asks the co-operation of Dr.Lawrence Fitch, her dance. In runningdown the real criminal lie advises Elinornot to seek hall. Britz Investigates affairsat the Missloner home He learns thatMrs. Miasioner had the diamonds In ParisWith her.CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.)As the detective left the office, hecould not help a feeling of depressionat the slow progress of events. As yet,the intricacies of the mystery werevaguely outlined in his mind. He sawIhem as a floating mist, heavy withpossibilities but charged with delusivesigns of beckoning trails that he In-stinctively knew led to nowhere. Hewas still treading lightly the mazesof the case. One false step might befatal, and he preferred to remain Ina crouching attitude of watchfulness,ready to spring from cover at theproper moment.Much ns he deplored his enforcedInactivity, he nevertheless had faithla the final outcome. A quick mental•urvey of the case convinced him thatthe first necessity was to find themaker of the paste stones. Whoevermade the duplicate Maharanee wouldsurely iec"ll having done so. Therewere few Europeon firms that couldhave made the stone. It was doubtfulwhether any American manufacturercou’.d have turned out a substitute tofool the eyes of Mrs. Miasioner, evenfor a night. It Is hard enough to getthe compact brilliance of the diamondMn a small paste gem; Infinitely moredifficult Is it to manufacture a coun-terfeit Maharanee. Britz knew thatwhoever copied the cut and luster ofthat marvelous stone was an expert^ of high caliber. No faint shimmer ofglass could have availed to deceiveMrs. Missloner. The laboratory Arethat gleamed from the duplicate wasthe work of years of experiment, andonly in Paris, Britz believed, was theart of manufacturing paste gems suf-ficiently developed to bring forth asatisfactory duplicate of the Mahara-nee.Three weeks, at least, must elapsebefore word would come from Logan.The emissary sent abroad waa himselfa diamond expert. Before enteringthe Detective Bureau, he had been aforeign agent of the United StatesTreasury Department. If the dupli-cate necklace was manufacturedabroad, Logan would find the manu-facturer without delay. Britz hadfaith in his man, and he waited Im-patiently through three weeks of tor-ment for the first cablegram. It camefinally, and he opened It with nervousUngers.“Missloner necklace manufacturedfrom drawings by three firms. Orig-inal never In possession of manufac-turers.” •Britz let the telegram flutter to thefloor."I knew it!” he burst forth. “Theywouldn’t have dared to take the orig-inal out of the safe without immedi-ately replacing It with the duplicate.”He picked up the message andburst into the Chief's room.■'Head it!” he exclaimed.The Chief’s eyes drank in thewords, but his brain failed to grasptheir underlying meaning., “I don’t see that this proves any-thing,” he remarked."It proves everything," volleyedBritz. “It proves that the thief was aclever draughtsman. It proves thathe spent weeks sketching the neck-lace, stone by stone, and it proves,too, that he went to Paris to have theduplicate made.”"It proves all that,” agreed theChief. “But who had the opportunityto see the necklace a sufficient num-ber of times and long enough to makethe sketches? Who but Miss Hol-comb?”| "I will find someone who had al-most as good an opportunity," Brit*returned confidently.' "And if you do, what will It mean?"asked the Chief.I “It will mean something to workon," the detective said.The next twenty-four hours Britz•pent In the quiet of his home,his mind focused on the prob-lem before him, trying to map out hisline of procedure. Plan after plan hediscarded as worthless. He could havestruck out blindly In the hope ofr stumbling on a trail, but that was notBlitz’s method. Crime mysteries wereto him scientific problems to be solvedby scientific means. Step by step hewent over the ground already covered,and then swept the outlook, with theP 1 keen searchlight of his mind.j By, a process of elimination he trle(Jto sift the real thief from the groupof suspects on whom his mental ef-forts were concentrated. He was un-able to drag forth the culprit. Then hesought to discern the motive ior the jcrime In the action of each possiblecriminal, but he could come to no sat-isfactory conclusion.“More information, more informa-tion Is needed before the real work ;can begin!” he murmuredin his preoccupation he did not ob-serve the door open and the servantshow in a subordinate from Head-quarters. Not until the visitor spokedid he become aware of his presence."Two cablegrams for you. sir,” thesubordinate said.The first cablegram aroused no emo-tions in the detective.“Have obtained original drawingsWill sail to-morrow with them," themessage from LogAn read.He opened the second envelope andread the contents half a dozen times,as if to stamp them Indelibly on hismind."Drawings for duplicates taken tomanufacturer by young woman. Clavename of Elinor Holcomb.”Britz dismissed the visitor, left thehouse, and hastened to the office ofDr. Fitch. Taking the Importantcablegram from his pocket, he handedit to the physician. The doctor's eyeslingered on each word. His face paled,his eyes bulged forward, a violenttremor ran up and down Ills frame."This is awful!" he groaned.“It’s groat news for you and MissHolcomb," the detective smiled.Fitch eyed him in perplexity. Thedetective met his inquiring gaze stead-ily, and, slowly folding the cablegram,he said;“It proves beyond question she hadno part in the crime.”“How?” Pitch demanded eagerly.“If Miss Holcomb had been cleverenough to plan tho theft, she’d haveknow'n better than to go about Parisordering the duplicates. Also, if shehad taken the diamonds, she’d neverhave permitted one of them to remainin her room In Mrs. Mlssioner’Bhouse. No, whoever stole those gemsdeliberately tried to throw suspicionon her.”"But who could have conceived sucha dastardly crime?” Fitch blurted, awave of anger sweeping his frame."Whoever It was,” Britz returned,“either was actuated by enmity to-ward the young woman, or knewenough about the Missloner householdto realize that suspicion would natur-ally fall on her, and therefore he de-cided to use her as a cloak to hidehis own Identity. However, I nowhave something to work on, somethingthat will produce quick results. Dr.Fitch, you may tell Miss Holcombthat in my calculations she Is entirelyeliminated from participation In thecrime. You may Inform her also thatthe hunt for the thief has begun.”Before the physician recoveredfrom the pleasant shock of the de-tective’s words, Britz was hurryingdown the steps.CHAPTER X.Dorothy March Talks.Matinee girls in the Forrest Theaterdiffer from their sisters of other NewYork playhouses In that they are farmore serious than anybody in the eve-ning audiences. Caramels, marshmal-lows, chocolate creams are forbiddenby the unwritten law of their cult.Tho utmost nourishment one of themcan allow herself is a salted almondnibbled surreptitiously between de-corous little outbursts of kid-glovedapplause. It is not the sort of gather-ing in which one would expect to findthe busiest sleuth of the headquartersstaff, especially with a great diamondmystery on his hands. Yet, on oneof those warm January afternoonsthat make the metropolis wonder if itis being metamorphosed into a winterresort, one of the most Interested aud-itors in the select little theater wasDetective-Lieutenant Britz, of Man-ning’s staff.Britz found the somebody he soughtwhen his gaze fell on a slim little fig-ure In the trimmest of dove-coloredgowns, sitting in the fifth row ofT thecenter aisle. Instantly his last pre-tense of attention to the play van-ished. Keeping his eyes on the graycurves of the girl in the fifth row, hequitted his post at one side of thehouse and walked slowly to the mainexit, whence he watched her until thecurtain fell on the first act. Mean-while, he scribbled on a card, slippeda liberal tip into the receptive handof an usher, nnd indicated the objectof his interest. When the curtain fellon the first act, the usher hurrieddown the aisle, and presented thecard to the girl In gray."If Miss March.’’ read the youngwoman, "will spare a few minutes toBritz, of Headquarters, she will con-fer a favor and serve her friend, Mrs.Missioner.”Dorothy gathered her wrap, glassesand program quickly and followed theusher to the hack of the theater. Theyouth led her to the famous detective,whom, though she had heard of himthrough Doris Missloner, she beheldfor the first time."You wished to see me?" InquiredDorothy. It was a banal question, anda flush tingod her cheeks as she re-alized It* superfluouBness could not es-cape tlie greatest detective in NewYork. But Britz seemed not to noticeit, and the simple directness of hismanner put the girl at her ease."I took the liberty, Miss March,” hesaid pleasantly, “because 1 saw youacross the orchestra, and 1 need a6liort course in social knowledge.”His smile robbed tho reply of flip-pancy."Fancy!" said Dorothy. She was soutterly at sea as to the detective’spurpose she could think of nothingelse to say save: “I fear you havesought a poor teacher.”“Well, I don’t know now,” Britz re-turned, looking at her with respectfuladmiration. “You see, you're a soci-ety girl, and I know nothing of so-ciety, and there's something I wantto know—something I ought toknow.”“If there’s anything I can fell you,Mr. Britz, I’ll be glad to do so,” Dor-othy volunteered. “Especially if itwill help you to find Mrs. Missloner'sdiamonds.”“I’m not sure It will,” said Britz. “Itmay, however, save me from seekingthem in the wrong place. You seemedto enjoy the play, Miss March.”This shift of Buhjects was so ab-rupt that if Dorothy's breath had notalready been coming in catches, shemight have gasped. It was evidentdetectives were more original thansociety men. She wondered absentlyif the type was worth studying.“Why, yes," her hesitating answercame. "I believe it’s considered oneof the best hits of the season. Veryelevating, you know, and—well, differ-ent.”“Modern, Miss March?”“It has two periods. The first dealswith the life of today, the secondharks back to the early Victorian pe-riod with, I understand, an abrupt re-turn to the present.”She was chatting quite easily withthe detective now. Had she beenreared in Mulberry street Instead ofon Murray Hill, she could not havefelt more natural.“Now, this society subject—by thewray. Miss March.” Britz switchedagain, “is there as much differencebetween social life then and now?”“Oh, a great deal, 1 should say."Her eyes twinkled. "Of course, I can-not speak with authority—from per-sonal observation.”"I wouldn’t ask ypu to tell me any-thing about Ward McAllister from per-sonal observation. Miss March," saidthe sleuth. His gallantry on occasionwas the wonder of the Central office.Dorothy looked alarmed. Could Itbe great detectives wasted time oncompliments, too? But a side glanceat the detective’s serious expressionreassured her. It was manifest evento a debutante he had no idea of ma-king an impression along that line.She laughed frankly and looked athim again in the friendliest way.“I know you don’t want to ask meabout anything so recent as tho Span-ish war,” she raid, "now, do you?""Candidly, I don't,” he rejoined."To tell you the plain truth, I don'tknow exactly what I wish to ask younor how to ask it, but I have an ideayou can help me, and I am sure youwill for Mrs. Missloner's sake.”"And Miss Holcomb's?’’ asked thegirl eagerly. "She, too, you know, is adear friend of mine.""And Miss Holcomb’s,” answeredthe headquarters man warmly. "Letme say, too, my dear young lady, asone old enough to he your—your—’’“Don’t say my brother, Mr. Brite,”Interposed Dorothy mischievously. "I—I—well, I don't really see how I canbe a sister to anybody else.” She feltimpelled to treat this strangelynatural man naturally—she, who de-spite her inexperience, could freezepresumption with a glance, felt thatway. It was a tribute to his adapta-bility.Britz laughed.“Mlsa March,” he said with moreheartiness in his tone than had col-ored It in many a day, “if I were notso busy. It would be a delight to bean elder brother to you. But I guessyou're not interested In mr Impulses.and wo wore talking of the play.”"Oh, yes, ’the play's tho tiling.'"Dorothy countered with keen relishof the sltuutlon. if subtlety was illsintention, she would show him what awoman—Dorothy was all of nineteen—a woman could do. “I never wouldhave supposed," she added, allowingherself full measure of mischief, "thata famous detective could he a matineeman.”Ilrltz winced. His read) good na-ture parried her shafts, however, amiIt was with the same slow smile thathe replied;“Does the author reconcile the man-ners of the two periods, or, is thopiece one of tlx se problem plays thatleave everything to tho audience?You see, Miss March," ho went on,“Mulberry street gets to Broadwayoccasionally.”"I don’t know, Mr. Britz.” She triedto recall the advance notice of theproduction. “This is tho first timeI’ve seen It. I dare say the play-wright has bridged the gap some-how.""It’s a wide gap to bridge,” ob-served the detective thoughtfully.“From reading nineteenth century nov-els, I should say it would he hard forthe writer to hold intere.it with sucha groundwork for his plot. Thingswere so different 50 years ago."“Exactly what my grandfathersays,” Dorothy retorted, fun flashingIn that mlgnon face. “But we'll knowsoon how the author has succeeded,”she added. “The orchestra Is nearingthe end of this selection.”“Even their amusements were differ-ent,” mused Britz. “Instead of golf,tennis, autolng, yachting, they hadarchery, croquet, sketching and squaredances—1 don't suppose anybody insociety sketches nowadays. MissMarch?”“I’d hardly say that," she replied.“There are a few talented men—”“And many women—”"Oh, almost all women are more orless artistic,” said Dorothy with con-vlcltlon. "But one must not he un-just to the men on that account.”“Well, Miss March,” and his smilefrom a younger man would have beencalled caressing, “we've started withdiscussion of the play, and we touchedon authorship, the founder of the FourHundred, the war with Spain and adozen other subjects. Funny howchatter zigzags, isn't It? I was aboutto say that from all I understand, thesociety men of today are not as ac-complished, even If they are talented,as the beaux of good Queen Victoria'sgirlhood. Come, now, I’d lie willingto bet a box of bonbons you don’tknowffialf a dozen men who can drawanything except checks.”"Oh, yes, I do!” she cried gayly.Then, meditatively, "Half a dozen,you say? Do you know, Mr. Britz, Ithink you v in.’*“You don’t know as many ns six’’”Britz inquired, as if the fate of em-pires hung on his winning the wagerthat as yet was only a hypothesis.“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” she saidnaively. “But I don’t. There are twoor three, though—Teddy Lorltner andMr Griswold, and that queer littleFrenchmen, Anatole—Auatole—oh,you know who I mean?”"Anatole Daubigny?”"Yes—he draws the funniest, dear-est little dogs.”"And his monkeys. Miss March.Don’t forget his monkeys.”“Aren’t they simply—simply ravish-ing?" the girl returned. "And haveyou seen his newest satire on theNewport set—a lot of apes nndbaboons nnd chimpanzees In eveningdress sitting at the table with severalmen and women? ‘A Family Heunlon,’he calls it ”"Delightful!" said Britz with en-thusiasm equaling hers. “I perceivewe enjoy a good many things In com-mon, Miss March.”She smiled. It was not every mat-inee girl who could interest a manwho solved world-famous mysteries."Isn’t it strange!"- she said. Thenthe training of years recalled her to asense of what she was doing. "I fearwe've been very unconventional, Mr.Britz," she said as primly as herprettlness permitted. “But I've en-joyed our little chat very much ”“Which means 1 must he going,”said Britz promptly, "If l‘m not tospoil your enjoyment of the mid Vietori an scene. The orchestra has fin-ished speaking its lit tie piece."“Yes, there goes the curtain," agreedDorothy, rising hastily. "So glad tohave met you, Mr. Britz. I hope I'vebeen of some assistance about dearMrs. Missloner's jewels Good after-noon.""Hut, Mr. Britz,” she cried, “therewas something you wished to ask mesomething that was to help you hudthe diamonds?”"Some other time, Miss March,thunk you," said Britz, smiling "Iwon’t detain you now. Perhaps we’llmeet at another matinee soon, with alonger Intermission between tho acts.Delighted to huvo made your ac-quaintance, Miss March. I knowyou're In a hurry to get hack to yourseat. Forrest audiences don't like tohe disturbed, you know. Good-after-noon, Miss March, and—thank you somuch!”He had cause to thnnk her, ho be-lieved. For, In her girlish talk, shehad given him the first M' slonerclue of the week—or, rather, Hhe hudextended for him a thread of themystery tHat had occupied much ofIlls thoughts from the moment whenhe received lagan's cable saying (hepaste jewels were made fromsketches. For days, he had soughtto learn who among Mrs. Missloner’sintimates was artist enough to makesuch delicate draughts of the dia-monds as would he required by nn ar-tificer for the manufacture of Imita-tions. With that object, he had ascer-tained Dorothy’s intention to go to thomatinee in the Forrest and had gonoto tho theater to meet her under con-ditions not likely to Interfere withsuch gentle questioning of her as hemount to do. His veiled interrogationof the society girl had brought forththe fact, that Curtis Griswold couldsketch—that the clubman was suffi-ciently master of his pencil to havehis skill pretty generally knownamong his acquaintances. Lorimerand Daubigny, tho other society ar-tists she had mentioned, were not, heknew, In Mrs. Missloner's circle.It was fortunate for LieutenantBritz, as woll as for Elinor Holcomband Doctor Fitch, and everybodywhose hopes hinged on the detective'ssuccess in solving the great Misslonerdiamond mystery, that long custommade him thread the traffic of thecity’s throbbing artery automatically,for so deeply did tho sleuth ponderthe possibilities of his newest Infor-mation that he had several close es-capes from taxicabs, private automo-biles and trolley cars as he crossedBroadway and bent his steps towardFifth avenue. The case had cleared alittle, but bis course was not muchplainer than it had been when hedropped into the theater In quest offurther knowledge."It won’t do to call Miss March asa witness," he mused, walking northin the carriage-crowded avenue, withthat briskness characteristic of himwhen his hialn was most active. “She”1 Won’t Detain You Now.'can’t absolutely prove anything.” Itwas necessary to obtain tangible evi-dence of Griswold's ability as adraughtsman. How to do so withoutalarming the clubmun was the presentproblem.Britz by no means was prepared toBuspect Griswold of the robbery. Herealized thoroughly that Dorothy's in-formation was all he hnd to indicateGriswold any more than Sands, ortwo or three others. He did not evenknow whether Miss Holcomb coulddraw, and it was no part of his pur-pose to distress the imprisoned girlwith questions betraying the smallestbelief in tha accusation against her.No; Britz always honest with himself,could not say he suspected Griswold.His method was the opposite of Don-nelly's and Carson's. Instead of sus-pecting everybody, as they invariablydid in cases at all mysterious, hewould net altach suspicion to anyonewithout satisfactory proof. That wasthe secret of his success. He wasmore than a detective; ho was prose-cutor, judge, Jury anil counsel to thedefense. It accounted for the factthat be rarely made a mistaken ar-rest, nnd that when he caused manor woman to he placed in the prison-er's dock, a conviction almost alwaysfollowed.“Griswold, Sands. All, Blodgett—"The names presented themselves tothe sleuth's mind In thut order as hohastened along with no particularplace as an objective merely walkingto stimulate his mentul process. Italways brightened Britz to pass thopanorama of fashion in Filth avenue.It was with nn almost fatherly feel-ing he glanced at the rich, the debon-air, (he gay sauntering along the side-walks or roiling in automobiles andcarriages up nnd down the asphalt.The safety of their wealth, sometimesof their very lives, depended on thovigilance, courage nnd efficiency ofhimself, and of the few men like himon the police force of New York. Sofur as the rank and flic of the depart-ment wero concerned, those carefreesons nnd daughters of opportunitymight bo at (he mercy of the ablestbirds of prey in the human flock. Itwas because Britz and his compeersworked and watched nnd waited sopatiently, so devotedly, so ceaselessly,that fashion nnd finance, coquetry andcommerce, could bask in the sunshineof metropolitan prosperity.A dark blue limousine standing at thecorner of Forty-fourth Btreet caughthis attention. For a moment hestudied it as he slackened his pace.Then he stopped short, retraced hissteps, crossed to the east side of theavenue, and, through the windows ofa wailing cab, trained his gaze onSherry’s fashionable restaurant infront of which the costly automobilestood. Dimly, through tho filmy lac#curtains, lie saw the figures of thoselingering over afternoon tea, with afew early diners. He could not dis-tinguish their faces, but something inthe hearing of a woman at the firstwindow held his glance. Then awaiter, moving Bllently about the ta-ble, chanced to part the curtains withhis elbow, and in the momentary gapbetween the folds of film Britz sawthe blondo beauty of Mrs. Missioner,nnd the clear-cut features of CurtisGriswold.Britz settled himself to wait Thacabman, whose vehicle he was usingns a redoubt, looked at him inquiring-ly, but the detective fished out of hispocket a fat cigar with a scarlet-and-gold band, and in a moment he andthe cabby were chatting amlabiy. Thoheadquarters man had not long towait. Before the cabman had genefar Into discussion of tho current po-litical crisis, the door of the restau-rant across the street was swung openby a boy in many buttons, and Mrs.Missioner appeared on the threshold.She was followed ciosely by Griswoldand, after a moment's pause 1o glad-den th$! henrt of the much-buttonedyouth, by a man the watching detec-tive was somewhat surprised to see—Bruxton Bands."Home," said Mrs. Missioner to herchauffeur. Britz could not hear theword, but he read It from her lips.He saw tho widow step into her limou-sine, saw Sands and Griswold follow,saw the chauffeur throw his clutch,saw the big car glide swiftly south towheel for a northward trip along theavenue. Before the automobilereached a turning point, the detectivesprang Into the cab, whispered an ad-dress to tho driver, and added In alow tone:"Double your fare for speed.”The cabman lashed his horse and,knowing his craft, threaded his waythrough tho traffic so quickly that ina short time he was several blocksahead of the limousine. All the wayup the avenue the race continued,Britz well in the lead. At the Fifty-ninth street entrance, the automobileswung into the park, but the cabmanurged his horse straight up Fifth ave-nue, nnd so great was the gain madeby the short cut that a few blocks fur-ther north he dropped his fare infront of a mansion of imposing ugli-ness. touched his hat in acknowledg-ment of a generous fee, and was bowl-ing eastward, halfway to Madison ave-nue, when the Missioner car reap-peared from the park’s Seventy-sec-ond street gate.“You at least can stop for a minuteof gossip," said Mrs. Missioner overher shoulder as she preceded Sandsand Griswold Into her library. “Fi-nance and club affairs can wait a lit-tle while, nnd—oh!”(TO BE CONTINUED.)The Scientific Butler.Science In its more awful forms isnot confined to schoolboy howlers. Oneof the witty Canon Alnger's stories—quoted in Mr. E. V. Lucas’ delightfulanthology of letters, entitled “The Sec-ond Post”—proves it.At a country house party a maid wasdressing a guest’s hair."1 hope, Parker," said the lady, "yonare comfortable in your place?"“Oh, yes, ma'am," the maid replied,with great warmth. “The societydown stairs is so superior. The butlerleads the conversation."He Is a refined man,” she contin-ued, wltti rising enthusiasm. "Indeed,quite scientific. He lias boen telling usall about evolution, and we quite under-stand It now.“He says," the tnahl concluded, earn-estly, "that we aro all descended fromDarwin.”—Youth's Companion.